


No Comfort In The Shade

by twisting_vine_x



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, M/M, Purgatory, Self-Loathing, UST, Violence, messy relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisting_vine_x/pseuds/twisting_vine_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dean knows damn well that, if he asked, Cas would take him back again. Would take Dean, with all of his dysfunction, all of his guilt and selfish need, because Cas has never stopped looking at Dean like Dean hung the goddamn moon – and for all that Cas has screwed up, he still deserves better than anything Dean could ever give him.  Deserves a better life than the hell that Dean’s dragged him into, and if Dean could just – for once in his damn life – put Cas’ needs before his own, then he'd just cut that tie completely and let Benny roll him over and have his way with him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Comfort In The Shade

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Title comes from Mumford & Sons.

In Purgatory, one would think that the night hours would be utterly dark.

They’re not. There’s almost always some pale attempt at a moon, and on some nights it sheds enough light to see by. Enough for Dean to be able to see Benny as he lies beside him, and Dean is very aware of how close they are. Of how, every night, Benny’s been moving just the tiniest bit closer to him, and how Dean hasn’t tried to stop him. Hasn’t once shifted away.

Purgatory’s lonely. 

He misses Cas in a way that feels like being torn open. Misses what they had before Sam jumped. Misses the nights they spent curled up around each other in shitty motel rooms, as Cas had slowly fallen in every sense, until by some insanity – Dean won’t call it a miracle, because someone like him should have never been given someone like Cas – he’d ended up in Dean’s arms and in his bed, an angel of the lord that Dean should have never ever let himself touch. 

But he also just misses Cas, period. For all that they have some serious shit to work out, he’s still the angel who rescued Dean from Hell, who threw his life away for Dean, who – for all that he’s fucked up – always had nothing but good intentions. The angel who never said a word of judgement when Dean told him _This is the last time_ and then took him back again, time and time again, until they’d both be exhausted under the covers and Dean would be silently freaking out because they’d somehow passed so far beyond just sex – so far beyond _You’re not gonna die a virgin_ – and ended up in a place that was much more dangerous, and Dean should have never let them get to that place.

And it’s been two years since then. Two years since Sam jumped, and Dean’s entire world came crashing down around him, and Dean went to Lisa, and Cas fucked off to Heaven to play at being sherrif – and, somehow, he’s only now starting to realize that part of that was his fault. That he never once asked Cas to stay, that he never tried to make sense of things between them. That, maybe, if he had said something – if he had let Cas in, instead of running; if he had asked Cas to stay, instead of making an attempt at that white picket fence life – they wouldn’t even be here at all.

But they are here. Trapped in fucking Purgatory. And Cas is still missing – not answering Dean’s prayers – and Dean somehow has a vampire resting beside him, not even making a token effort at pretending to be asleep. The moon might be dim, but Dean can see that Benny’s eyes are open, his hands resting on his chest and his gaze tilted up at the sky, and Dean has to take a steadying breath, has to ignore the stirring of all too human heat that rises low in his stomach, creeps out across his skin. He’s pretty sure, at this point, he can tell the difference between being stared at like something wants to eat him, and being stared at like something wants to fuck him, and for all that he has no doubt that Benny’d love to suck the blood from his veins, there’s also no way Dean’s been misinterpreting the way Benny watches him just a little bit too long. The way he keeps curling up closer, and god, Dean is still not resisting. He’s cold, and he’s exhausted, and he’s alone, and his entire world has become nothing but pain and blood, and fuck. For all that something about it all seems pure, it’s still horror – constant horror – and he knows damn well that Benny could hold him down and make him forget about everything, for at least a little while.

He doesn’t think he makes a sound, but Benny tilts his head a bit, almost but-not-quite looking in Dean’s direction – and Dean jerks his gaze away, closes his eyes and curls his legs in a bit closer on himself. Two years since Cas and he ended their… whatever they had, and he should be able to do this. Should be able to just let Benny fuck some of the pain away for a bit, and god, it’s not like it’d be a hardship – not with the way Benny hits that nerve deep inside him, touches those dark places that crave the danger and the violence. Not with the way he lights up the parts of him that only Cas was ever able to soothe, and fuck, that's something he really shouldn't think about. Because Dean knows damn well that, if he asked, Cas would take him back again. Would take Dean, with all of his fucked up dysfunction, all of his guilt and selfish need, because Cas has never stopped looking at Dean like Dean hung the goddamn moon – and for all that Cas has fucked up, he still deserves better than anything Dean could ever give him. Deserves a better life than the hell that Dean’s dragged him into, and if Dean could just – for once in his damn life – put Cas’ needs before his own, then he'd just cut that tie completely and let Benny roll him over and have his way with him.

Somehow, though, all he can do is roll on to his side, clench his hand around his weapon, and start another silent prayer in Cas’ direction, way too honest and open and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

_Cas, buddy, I need you. Come back, please._

\- - -

Two days later, the moon is barely there, and Benny curls up so close to him Dean can almost feel him breathing. He spends most of the night cursing his dick and trying to pretend his chest doesn’t fucking explode into an aching world of pain whenever he thinks of taking what Benny’s so obviously offering.

_Cas, please. I need you._

\- - -

The next day, Benny saves Dean from having his throat torn out by a werewolf. 

There had been too many – way too fucking many, an entire pack of the fuckers, way too many for Dean to fight all at once – and all that saves him is the way Benny can tear people apart with both his teeth and the weapon he’s taken to carrying. It gives Dean a chance, lets him take out as many as he can, and just when he’s about to be gutted, Benny’s on top of the thing and tearing into it until nobody’s moving at all, and all that’s left is Dean kneeling there, panting, staring at Benny, who’s got blood and god knows what else all over his face, teeth out and his eyes feral.

It should be terrifying. It probably says something about Dean’s mental state that it isn’t. And when Benny gets the chance to wash up in the poor excuse for a stream they find, Dean very vehemently keeps watch on the surrounding area and looks away from the sight of Benny stripping his shirt off. Dean’s way too fucking human for this shit, can't help the way his eyes want to cut across the broad line of Benny's shoulders, and he doesn’t know whether he’s turned on or whether he wants to puke. 

That night, once they’ve cleaned up and made camp for the night, there’s barely any moon at all, and Benny brushes up close until their shoulders are touching. Dean can’t stop the way he goes rigid – it’s like someone’s dumped gasoline into his veins and lit him up from the inside out – and when a hand, much gentler than he was expecting, settles on his elbow, the touch seems to burn straight through his clothes. His mouth tries to form words, but he can't, not with that touch searing through him, and god, Dean _needs_ to do this, needs to just fucking - and then Benny shifts closer, his breath soft on his cheek and his hand sliding up his arm, pressing flat across his chest, and Dean inhales sharply and shakes his head, _Cas_ – catches Benny’s hand and stops him, pushes it off his body and shifts to the side, everything inside him hurting so much he can barely breathe.

“No.”

There’s silence for a long moment, and Dean’s all too aware of the way he’s still got his hand wrapped around Benny’s wrist. When Benny finally moves again, it’s to pull his hand away, and Dean is pretty sure that the new tightness in his chest is pure fucking relief, even if it feels like pain.

“The angel?”

Benny’s voice is mostly level, but Dean still flinches. Can’t seem to find words to either protest it or deny it. After a few moments, there’s what sounds like a sigh, and Benny’s hand is back on his again – and Dean barely has time to tense up, breathe through the wash of heat, before his fingers are being squeezed and Benny’s letting go again, a crunch of leaves as he shifts away.

“He’s a lucky bastard, then.”

There’s something almost wistful there, and Dean swallows hard, _No, he’s really, really not_ – but it’s a train of thought that derails when he can hear Benny lying down next to him, the sound of him moving against the ground, his outline barely visible in the moonlight as he stretches out his long body and folds his hands on his chest again.

“If you change your mind, I'm here.”

It’s a low rumble in the darkness, and Dean closes his eyes, somehow bites back the noise that wants to get out. Ignores the helpless punch of need, breathes through the nausea, because – no. No matter that Benny makes those dangerous places inside him light up, makes him crave that promise of oblivion, makes his body burn hot and desperate – he knows damn well that he just can’t. That he’s not strong enough. That, in this, as in everything he does, he’s too weak to follow through. Too weak to sever something that’s been hanging on, unhealthy and disastrous, tying Dean and Cas together for far too long, and if Dean’s not gonna do this now – with this creature who could take him apart in all the way he wants, here in this dark hell hole, when he _needs_ to forget – then he knows damn well that he’s not gonna be the one to cut that tie for good. That when he gets Cas out of here and Cas looks at him with those big eyes of his, Dean’s gonna beg him to come back, because he’s just not fucking strong enough to do the sane thing and walk away. 

The realization feels like being punched in the chest, and Dean closes his eyes and rolls onto his side, his back towards Benny, and his hand curling around the weapon beside him, an anchor as he stares into the darkness in front of him. For a few seconds, he listens to the sound of Benny breathing, still way too fucking close behind him – and then he curls a bit tighter in on himself and lets the prayer come to his lips, can’t stop the way the silent plea is suddenly coming out desperate. However broken their relationship might be, and even if Cas deserves better than him, the current reality is that they’re all trapped in Purgatory together, and all that truly matters right now is that Dean has a wayward angel to bring home.


End file.
